


Smooth Scotch and Honest Ramblings

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Gen, Jealous Oliver, Jealous Roy, drunk, omissions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2565464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Roy bond over liquor and seeing the women they love with other men, before departing thoroughly drunk to talk to Felicity and Thea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Drunken Chat

Roy couldn’t shake the image of Thea with him. Chad. What a shitty name. No matter how many times Roy tried to blink them away or focus on something else, he couldn’t stop going back to the way Chad’s arm had wrapped around her waist. The ease in which she popped onto her toes and kissed him, arms slipping around his neck and pulling herself closer. It hurt—seeing that. Seeing Thea so comfortable with someone else. His Thea. She used to do that with him. She used to love him.

Roy took another large swig of the cheap vodka he had found in the back of the bar, wincing at the burning in his throat.

He had been so relieved when he first saw her, looking so natural as she carried drinks around the bar, handing them to a few customers. He had been walking towards her, longing to pull her in close, to just breathe her in, when she had turned towards the new DJ. Roy froze as they hugged. As they kissed. And then he had gone straight back to the lair, with a bottle of vodka he had swiped from the bar cradled under his arm. He’d been sitting on a workout mat, drinking out of the bottle since.

Footsteps echoed behind him, but he didn’t turn around. It didn’t matter who it was—they weren’t going to help anything. They wouldn’t be able to take away this feeling.

“Roy?” Oliver’s voice was low and curious as he came around to stand in front Roy, staring down at his slouched form.

“If you’re going to lecture me on underage drinking or something just save your breath,” Roy defended instantly, “I had a really shitty night and—-hey!”

Oliver snatched the bottle from Roy, choking back a large swig, much to Roy’s surprise.

“That’s horrible,” Oliver coughed, wincing as he read the bottle.

“Yeah well, it was the easiest thing to swipe from the bar,” Roy said without a hint of guilt, giving Oliver a challenging look. Oliver though simply considered Roy for a moment in thought before turning and walking away from him.

“Come on, I’ll go pay for it if you really,” Roy began, but stopped as Oliver held up two glasses and a bottle he grabbed out of the cabinet.

“Scotch?” Oliver asked, pouring full glasses for the two of them, “I think we could both use it.”

Roy looked suspiciously at Oliver’s strange attitude for a moment before grabbing his glass as well. They both drank a moment before Oliver looked at Roy, eyebrows raised a bit.

“I take it you saw Thea,” Oliver deadpanned.

“Yeah. I was trying to stay away, and then I just wanted to see her tonight. So I went and…I saw…” Roy angrily finished his drink, slamming it down, “Who the hell was that guy?” Roy asked, irritated.

“New DJ. Started a few weeks ago, and him and Thea started dating shortly after that,” Oliver said simply. 

Anybody else and Roy might have been annoyed at the blunt discussion of his ex’s new relationship, but not with Oliver. He wasn’t trying to hurt Roy—if anybody understood what it was like to watch the woman you love happy with someone else, it was Oliver. Because as much as they both wanted to forget about them, they couldn’t help but make sure they were happy. It didn’t matter if they were happy with other people. 

“Well he looks like an asshole,” Roy grunted.

“He is, but Thea doesn’t see that,” Oliver agreed, shaking a head at his sister’s blindness. Roy and Oliver exchanged a knowing look.

Roy watched as Oliver nursed his scotch, remarking, “I take it you overheard Felicity and Laurel talking today. About Palmer.”

Oliver shot Roy a look, his eyes instantly growing cold.

“If we’re going to do this I need another drink,” Oliver said, quickly throwing back his drink and pouring another. He stayed silent for a moment, thinking.

“I’m happy for Felicity,” Oliver decided, at which Roy let out a scoff.

“I’m pretty sure this situation we’re in right now contradicts that,” Roy said, gesturing to the bottle between them.

“I am,” Oliver insisted, “Felicity deserves somebody like Ray.”

“I believe that you believe that,” Roy agreed.

“Because it’s true,” Oliver stated. Roy continued to shake his head.

“What Felicity deserves is to choose. She’s smart, we all know that. You just need to tell her, man. Let her decide what kind of guy she deserves.”

“She made her choice already,” Oliver says, swirling his glass and staring a the liquid inside of it. Felicity chose Palmer—she could be with Palmer. She could love him without getting hurt. He could love her. And that was the way it was meant to be.

“This isn’t the 18th century,” Roy scoffed, “Just because Felicity had sex with another guy doesn’t mean she’s like made her final choice.”

“It’s not about that,” Oliver replied harshly.

“I’m pretty sure it is. Especially since I watched you when you heard Felicity tell Laurel, and you basically had a melt down,” Roy laughed at him, ignoring the glare he received in return.

“I did not! I didn’t react at all,” Oliver said unconvincingly.

“You were grinning like a psychopath for an hour—which wasn’t convincing at all and just thoroughly freaked everyone out— and then you stomped out of the room like a four year old. You literally stomped. I’m pretty sure everyone noticed.”

Oliver stared at him for a minute, before taking another large swig, “I stomped?”

“It was elephant-like.”

They both looked at each other before downing their drinks. It wasn’t long until the entire bottle was gone and they parted, thoroughly wasted.


	2. Roy and Thea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a drunken talk with Oliver, Roy decides to go see Thea at work, despite their distance since she got home.

Thea was sweeping the floor of the club, the few straggling guests finally leaving for the evening, when her eyes caught sight of a red sweatshirt for the second time that evening. This time though, the figure was staggering a bit, with a drunken gait to his step. 

She set the broom aside, watching as he beelined for her, coming so close she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Roy what are you—” She began, but stopped as he shook his head violently, then stumbled into the bar stool near them. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the surface, as she always remembered him doing. Although so much else had changed, that stayed the same. He was upset.

“How long? With him?” Roy slurred, and although she knew it was a question he knew the answer to, as she saw Oliver follow behind him when he left earlier, she came towards where he sat, meeting his eyes.

“Not long. It doesn’t matter—it’s none of your business,” She tried coldly, but the ice ebbed a bit as she studied Roy’s slumped form—his eyes had heavy bags under them and his hoodie looked unwashed. 

Roy though, watched the pity in her eyes and snapped up.

“It sure as hell is my business, Thea,” Roy yelled loudly, but Thea wasn’t scared. She’d seen Roy angry before—he wouldn’t hurt her. Not that he could anymore.

“No, Roy. The day you decided to lie to me was the day you gave up the right to know anything about me,” Thea said, voice raising, and she willed herself to put away her emotions, like her father had taught her. She took a deep breath, calming herself.

“Roy, you should go.”

He stared at her, the alcohol displaying far more emotions than he would have sober, and she almost broke. She turned to walk away before she could—from him, from this boy that could make her feel so much, so easily—but was stopped by his hand on her arm, surprisingly gentle.

“You are the only person I have ever loved,” Roy cried, “I’m not losing you again.”

“You already have Roy,” Thea yelled, but he spun her around, and she tried not to notice the glistening of his eyes.

“No, listen to me Thea. You are the only person I have loved my entire life. My parents were screw ups—they didn’t love me. They loved the tax reduction I got them, and when that wasn’t enough to stick around anymore they left. I did what I had to to survive after that—that’s all I lived for. Surviving,” Roy confessed for the first time in his life, begging Thea to understand.

“And then I met you. Well, robbed you, more like. But you changed everything for me Thea. You were everything for me. You still are,” Roy looked down at their hands, as he grabbed hers, stroking the skin. He stared with open eyes, completely broken, and she could feel the barrier that she had put up begin to chip without her permission.

“I lied to keep you safe—And I’m not going to apologize for my reasons, but I am sorry I lied,” he cut her protest off, “Please. I can’t lose you again.”

Thea mulled over his words, thought of her mission here in Starling City. She knew she needed to tell him to go. Tell him she didn’t love him—that he was going to lose her. 

“Let’s get you some water, and maybe some aspirin. You’ll be useless to my brother with a hangover,” Thea found herself saying instead. 

She couldn’t answer any of his pleas—couldn’t promise to be with him. She had bigger things to worry about in her life than that moment in time, but looking into the eyes of the only boy she had ever truly loved she found herself grasping his hand tightly wishing she never had to let go.


	3. Oliver and Felicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver goes to Felicity's apartment, jealous and drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly my favorite chapter to write. Like EVER. So I hope you guys like it! (:

Felicity was dressed in boxer briefs and an oversized T-shirt, flipping through channels when a loud, sudden banging on her door startled her into dropping the remote.

“H-hold on!” She yelled, running to her room to grab a robe when the knocking became more insistent, “Who is it?” She called, helplessly searching her room.

“Felicity!” She heard the distinct growl of Oliver’s voice, but the strange drawl to it caused her to abandon her search for the robe and jog to the door as he continued to bang on it.

“Oliver what the hell, are you trying to wake up the entire—” She halted as he barged past her into the apartment, “Uhm, sure Oliver, why don’t you come on in.”

Felicity swung the door closed as Oliver’s large form walked into her living room, staring at the romantic comedy splaying on the screen of her television a moment before turning back towards her.

“Not that it isn’t great to see you or anything, but what exactly are you doing at my apartment at 2 in the morning?” Felicity asked, annoyed at his abruptness. 

“Is anybody else here?” Oliver asked, looking around the small apartment suspiciously, causing Felicity to shoot him a bewildered look.

“Yes, I’m actually hiding somebody in the fridge—” Felicity stopped him with an hand on his arm as he made a move toward the kitchen, “I was kidding Oliver,” she smiled at him, but he continued to stare at her expectantly.

“No, nobody’s here. Just me,” she said cautiously, watching as his shoulders relaxed a bit, but the tension brewing underneath was palpable. 

“You shouldn’t answer the door at two in the morning. I could’ve been a murderer,” Oliver switched tracks quickly, causing Felicity to furrow a brow at him.

“A murderer that wanted the entire floor to know he was here before killing me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Felicity tried to gauge his mood as he anxiously clasped and unclasped his hands by his sides, eyes not meeting hers.

“Oliver, what’s going on?” She walked towards him, catching a whiff of scotch, “Are you drunk?” She asked, bewildered, moving a step back.

“Roy and I just had a few drinks,” He said defensively.

“You let Roy drink?” Felicity asked indignantly.

Oliver shrugged, leaning against the bookcase next to him and sending one volume flying. He scrambled to pick it up, looking so uncoordinated it caused Felicity to let out a barely contained chuckle.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk,” Felicity realized.

“I used to get drunk all the time, you know, before the island,” Oliver said, placing the book back on the shelf and continuing to study the volumes surrounding it.

“You did a lot of things differently before the island,” Felicity stated, leaning back against the couch, watching Oliver curiously.

“Yeah,” Oliver said sadly, breaking away from the bookcase and sitting on the arm of her couch, before sprawling backwards, looking oddly childlike in his strange position.

Felicity followed, sitting cross legged close to his head, looking down at him and switching the television off.

“Oliver, why were you drinking tonight? You never drink like that,” Felicity asked, but as he looked up at her sadly, she knew why—knew he had overheard her conversation about Ray with Laurel. He worked his hands anxiously in front of his stomach, staring up at her ceiling.

“Before the island, I didn’t ever want to feel anything too seriously. I pushed away everyone that got close to me—some things don’t change, I guess,” Oliver said.

Realizing he wasn’t going to push anything regarding Ray, Felicity reached a hand over to Oliver’s anxious ones, separating them as his nails dug crescents into his palms.

“You didn’t push everyone away. You were close to Thea—and Tommy,” Felicity mused, watching as Oliver shifted on the couch, moving his head back into the cradle of her lap. Her breath halted as he moved so naturally and she let her hands come down near the sides of his face.

“Yeah,” Oliver said, sighing in his new position, “I used to tell Tommy everything.”

“You don’t talk about Tommy much,” Felicity noticed as she forced herself to breathe evenly despite their intimate position. Oliver’s eyes were glossy as she looked down at them and he looked surprisingly vulnerable at her words.

“When he died…” Oliver began, and Felicity expected him to stop—to not break the invisible seal that kept all the feelings on Tommy at bay, but Oliver looked a bit past her, continuing with a clear of his throat.

“It wasn’t the right time. He was such a good person—he had finally gotten his life together. It wasn’t the right time,” Oliver shook his head a bit, and Felicity let her hands gloss over his scruff in an effort to comfort him.

“I miss him,” Oliver said simply, “I know I have you and Digg… but it was different with Tommy. He wasn’t just my best friend—he was my brother,” Oliver’s breath caught on the last word and Felicity’s heart ached for him. It must have hurt so bad to lose Tommy and Oliver had hardly been able to grieve. Nobody had let him.

“Will you tell me about him? I never really knew him,” Felicity said, somehow knowing that Oliver had never been able to do this—to talk about his best friend. To remember the life he’d had. Oliver’s eyes went from the ceiling above her to her eyes, a light smile lifting his lips.

“I’ve known him for—well, forever. Our families were friends before even us, you know. So when we were kids, we were thrown together for everything. You know, it’s funny, because at first we hated each other,” Oliver laughed, recalling a memory.

“When I was eleven I pulled some prank at a huge party—I don’t even remember what it was now—but my mom was yelling at me about it. Really getting into how immature it was, when Tommy came in. He said the prank was his fault—that he had told me to do it. I still don’t know why he covered for me, but it worked. My mom just ruffled his hair, told him to stay out of trouble. We’ve been friends ever since—or, were friends. I should say,” Oliver said, his smile slipping a moment.

“He was almost worse than I was, before the island, with all the drinking and partying. Although he didn’t get into it with the cops as often as I did. We had a lot of fun, Tommy and I. But that wasn’t all it was. It wasn’t just about having fun with him—Tommy was there through everything. Not just the fun stuff,” Oliver ran a hand over his scruff, scratching it a bit, “Even back then, he was the best person I’d ever known.”

Oliver looked dazed in his memory, and Felicity, for the first time, wished she could read his mind.

“I don’t know,” Oliver said sheepishly, “I just wish he was here for some of this stuff, you know?” Oliver ended with a gesture towards her, and Felicity started, he couldn’t mean…

“He would’ve loved you,” Oliver smiled brightly at Felicity and her heart stuttered, “You don’t take any of my moodiness. And you’re blunt. I wish he could’ve know you,” 

“He never got to have a family. He deserved a family of his own… like Digg…” Oliver trailed off, suddenly reaching a hand up to Felicity’s cheek, cupping it a moment wistfully.

“Do you think that I will ever…” Oliver began, but shook his head, instead falling silent as he looked up at Felicity.

“Yeah. Tommy would’ve like you a lot,” Oliver repeated with conviction.

Felicity stared down at him, for once at a loss of words. As broken as she had seen him, he’d never opened up to her about this. Her whole body ached to comfort him more than she was already but she forced herself to remember that nothing had changed—that Oliver’s thinking hadn’t changed. That she was still with Ray. She sighed. Ray.

Felicity watched as Oliver’s eyes began to droop and she let herself stroke her fingers gently through his hair and over his scalp—it’s not like he would remember in the morning anyways.

“I have a feeling I would’ve liked him too. And you’re right—he deserved so much more than what he got,” Felicity said, biting back tears with a staggered breath, “So do you.”

“Mmhm,” Oliver acquiesced offhandedly as his blinking slowed almost completely. His breathing became even as he laid in her arms, and she was unsure he had heard her, even as his words continued to slip out between shallow breaths.

“For him…we can’t forget…” Oliver began, but stopped as he dabbled in unconsciousness.

“I hope that I can have it… like Digg…”

“What?” Felicity whispered with a smile, endeared by this fragmented, sleepy side of Oliver.

“Name ‘em Tommy,” Oliver slurred out, “If it’s a boy, name’ll be Tommy,”

“You want to name who Tommy?” Felicity voiced his ramblings, confused, staring down at his drifting form a moment before piecing it together.

What Felicity hadn’t realized before then was that Oliver did want the life that Tommy deserved—the one that Digg had. He wanted the whole thing. 

“You… you want to name your kid after Tommy?” Felicity asked, throat clogged with unshed tears, one slowly slipped onto Oliver’s cheek.

“Don’t cry,” Oliver hummed through closed eyes, “I hate to see you cry,”

Felicity watched Oliver for a long time after that as he uttered confused ramblings, and she allowed herself to hold the hand that clamped her own. She watched, fascinated as a man that was usually so cold was softened in slumber. Felicity settled against the arm of the couch tiredly with Oliver’s head cradled in her lap. 

“He would’ve liked you a lot,” Felicity heard Oliver breath out faintly, before she too drifted asleep.


End file.
